A Moment of Pride for Dear Mama

Standing outside the bathroom for ten minutes under the impression the door is locked. Reading a paper as I wait. A woman comes over and gets in line behind me. We wait. She is approached by two lovely drunks eager to flirt. Awkward, slurred conversation commences. She gets uncomfortable and I check the door once more and realize it was not locked, merely heavy. Shame then takes a physical form and forever attaches itself to my back.